Blood and Honor
by Louise Clark
Summary: Lieutenant Colonel Cullen, a Silver Star Award recipient, buries the grief of his personal loss in order to serve his country. Upon the tenth anniversary of the death of his brother, he looks forward to retirement. The constant fighting in Afghanistan has gotten to him, pushing him to the limit. His last mission finally provides him with peace. Rated M,Adult Language,Images of War


*** **Disclaimer** ***

**I am not affiliated with or related to Stephenie Meyer, she alone owns the Twilight saga. I am also not affiliated with or related to anyone employed by Little, Brown, and Company OR Summit Entertainment. **

**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Since I DO own this story, please do not copy, translate, plagiarize, duplicate, or misuse my work in any way.**

**Thank you**.

A/N: This is my entry for the "Every Picture Tells a Story Super Challenge" by Random Fandom. The photo prompt chosen for this story is the image by the title. This is my first military fic, and I'd like to dedicate it to all the servicemen and women in the United States Armed Forces.

Blood and Honor

Another year of the dry air, the sand, the mountains, and I was going to go crazy. No, fuck that. I was going to go ape shit, balls-to-the-wall kind of crazy. You would too if it was your third tour in this godforsaken wasteland known as Afghanistan.

If it wasn't for the obligation I felt to the men and women in my platoon and to their families, not to mention to my family and my country, I probably would have retired when I had the chance. But then 9/11 happened and changed everything. I lost my brother Edward that day, and like many of my fellow servicemen, I renewed the pledge of service to my country.

Edward was an executive for Cullen Enterprises, which was located in the North tower of the World Trade Center. He was on the phone with his wife, Bella, when the plane struck. She's suffered from PTSD ever since. Their daughter, Renesmee, was an infant at the time, only six weeks old, so she's grown up with pictures and stories of her father. Now that Nessie's in her pre-teen years, Bella has felt well enough to begin dating again. It was nice to see them when I was home on leave eight months ago.

I also got to spend time with my mother, Esme, and father, Carlisle. She is an interior designer with celebrity and high-profile clientele in the New York area. My father, on the other hand, was the CEO of Cullen Enterprises. They were devastated by their own personal loss, but to add my father's corporate one, it was an awful time for my family. Losing the company, which he had formed and was one of the first tenants when the towers were built, was very hard for him to accept. Of just under a thousand people on the payroll, more than six hundred lost their lives that day.

My parents are resilient, though. Knowing the effects of the attack first hand, they pledged to help others. Both of them were active in memorial committees immediately after the tragedy. Within ten days of the attack, my father announced that Cullen Enterprises would ensure salaries to the families of the fallen for five years, and health care benefits for ten. Cullen Enterprises expanded and grew over the years, with no sign of stopping, due to my father's efforts.

"Colonel Cullen."

My attention was brought back to the present. The convoy I was in charge of was in hostile territory. Losing your concentration was dangerous, and I had done exactly that, even if it was only in memory of my brother on the tenth anniversary of his death. He was taken too soon, killed in the prime of his life. I missed his laugh. Hell, I missed teasing him. I shook off my emotions and embraced reality. "Private," I addressed Private First Class Newton.

"Sir, scouts indicate a killing field three clicks from here, sir." He stood ramrod straight and saluted me.

That piece of intel was interesting. "All right, Private, let's go check it out."

"Sir, yes, sir."

My men were great guys to serve with, and I was truly thankful they agreed to stop and observe a moment of silence. Part of me didn't want to because we weren't in a safe area, but my need to observe the moment my brother died won out against my better judgment. I had done it every year, no matter where I was in the world. A few times I had been alone, while other years my fellow troops observed the moment with me. Most didn't know of my personal loss, but that was okay with me. Lots of lives were lost that September day, so in truth I mourned for their families because I knew what they were going through.

I hopped into the passenger seat of the second Humvee in our convoy, joining driver Specialist Crowley and Specialist Cheney manning the TOW.

After Crowley communicated our readiness to the rest of the convoy, we cautiously advanced into the unknown. I relayed our status to my commanding officer, and then he informed me that a drone was already on the way. We were to await further orders when we arrived at the coordinates.

Maintaining radio silence as ordered as we approached, I gave the hand signal for them to gear up. The sound of rounds clicking into place in our pieces was welcoming. When Specialist Crowley parked beside the lead Humvee, he prepped his piece and looked at me for approval. I nodded and looked out into the barren landscape.

The bodies of the slain hadn't been there long as there wasn't much sand covering them up yet. From our vantage point, it looked like they were executed. A single shot to the head, just like others we had found the last couple of weeks. As soon as my convoy was in a defensive formation, a signal was given that the drone had been sighted. I nodded, mentally preparing myself for anything that could happen. I trusted my men to do the same.

The Grey Eagle had already flown over and was off in the distance when it was suddenly under fire. Insurgents revealed their hiding places along the mountains, and it was open season. I had given the order to return fire just as my C.O. did over the comm.

Cheney got several shots off the TOW as the other three of us got out of the Humvee. Taking cover, I dropped flat as Crowley threw my sniper rifle case at me. Staying flat as possible, I quickly assembled the piece, closed the case and pushed it under the Humvee. With Newton and Crowley providing cover fire, I assessed the field of the number of enemy within my kill reach. Popping off one by one, I made quick work of the bastards. Pleased with the quick results, I surveyed the combat area. Watching for signs of enemy fire from the mountainside, I lay still. I tapped a leg of the soldier next to me and gave the hand signal to cease fire. It took a minute for my order to be carried out, and in that time, there hadn't been any sign of the enemy. I waited a bit more for anything to spring out of the terrain before getting a hold of my C.O.

"Clear, Sir," I announced into the comm.

"Good. Clear the area, Colonel. Airstrike in ten."

"Sir, yes, sir."

I glanced up at the soldier who was still standing dutifully beside me, and for the first time, I noticed the stream of blood running down Crowley's arm.

"You okay?"

"Sir, yes, sir." He grimaced as he spoke.

I nodded and stood. Surveying my troops, I noted he wasn't the only one injured. A medic was behind me working on Newton, while others were keeping pressure on their various injuries.

"Men, we need to pack up and haul ass outta here," I announced. "Airstrike in nine."

Chuckling at how fast that got my men moving, I got in the driver's side of my Humvee. The medic had taken Newton with him, so I knew he was hurt bad. Crowley got in the passenger seat, mumbling about how he could've driven. Cheney popped in and I took off, the last one in my convoy of six.

Seven minutes had passed when two Raptors flew above us. We cheered them on momentarily, but when they were out of sight, the Humvee was quiet for the next mile or so. I smiled at the plumes of smoke, and announced their success. Another round of cheers filled the cabin before we took turns talking for the next hour until we returned to Bagram. We returned as quickly as possible, and I hoped it was enough to help Newton.

~~ Blood and Honor ~~

The base raised the alert level to Delta upon our arrival. Delta is the highest alert, which means no traffic, including air, arriving or departing the base. Newton, Crowley, and the others who were injured, were taken to the medic tent for attention while my other men were sequestered for questioning. Standard protocol.

After what seemed liked hours of watching my men being called to another area one by one, it was finally my turn.

"Lieutenant Colonel Cullen." Major General Volturi saluted.

"General." I saluted.

"I know why you interrupted progression of your convoy today, and I find it irresponsible. However, Colonel, you may have saved all your lives by doing so. Risky move."

It took everything I had to not show any emotion, to keep calm and stoic.

"At ease."

I adjusted my stance from attention to a relaxed stance, my hands clasped behind my back and legs spread shoulder width.

"Sending the drone in and finding another hideout was quite fortunate. The Raptors destroyed the mountains, but I wonder if there were tunnels, so we're going to send in grunts to dig and look." He stood beside his desk and studied me.

I nodded in approval of the thorough search. I was tired of dealing with this day after day. There didn't seem to be an end of willing morons that wanted to kill me because I was an American. My family noted how burned out I seemed to have been when I was on leave and asked how much longer I was going to serve. At this moment, I wanted out, and soon.

"Dismissed," he finally said. We saluted and I left.

I made my way to my bunk before going to the medic tent. Passing the rec room, I noticed a lousy excuse of a ghost hunting show on TV. The one in charge had tattoos, wild hair, and a big mouth, another one was chunky and skittish, and the third was relatively quiet. I watched as they described their equipment and silently wished they could come here and search the mountains for us. I shook my head and continued to my bunk.

Gathering my stuff to take a shower and a fresh uniform, I made my way to the communal bathroom. Thoughts of my family plagued my mind. Since I was hours ahead of them, I knew they were facing a rough day ahead. Even I was having a hard time facing the fact that it had been ten years. Ten long, agonizing years without my baby brother. Reaching the end of my emotional rope, I gave in and broke down. The water masked my tears, but nothing could mask the sound of my grief.

"Colonel Cullen," I thought I heard through the water. I couldn't be sure. I was so lost in my sorrow that I had lost track of time. I opened my eyes, searching for the source of what woke me from my stupor.

"Colonel, are you hurt? Are you all right, sir?"

Cheney.

Simultaneously realizing it was one of my men and that I didn't want him to see me whimpering like a baby, I stood before moving out of the freezing spray.

"Fuck!"

Laughter came from the other side of the stall beside me. "Sorry to interrupt you if you were rubbing one out."

Oh, hell no.

"Fuck you, Cheney. My dick's so big I couldn't rub one out if I was hunched over."

We laughed loudly as I turned off the water and grabbed my towel, and he scrubbed his scalp. The partitions between the shower units were four feet tall, like in a bathroom between toilets, so you could see the feet, shoulders, and heads of those around you. After I patted myself dry, I tied my towel around my waist and shaved at the sink. I was rinsing my face off when he came up to shave next to me. He glanced at me for a second, silently asking if I wanted to talk. I shook my head before drying my face. He couldn't hide his disappointment before he nodded.

"You might want to go see Newton. He didn't look good when I was there a bit ago."

I nodded and we bumped fists. I got dressed, took my dirty clothes to my bunk, and headed to the hospital tent.

"Colonel," "Colonel," "Colonel," I was greeted by several nurses as I made my way to where a huddle of nurses and doctors were around a gurney. Machines were loudly beeping in warning, and I heard the dreaded, unmistakable sound of a flatline. I couldn't tell who they were working on, but I had a feeling deep in my gut that it was Newton.

I had unknowingly gotten too close when someone grabbed my arm. "Colonel, it's best to step back and give them room to work, okay?" The soft-spoken voice of a woman got my attention.

I turned to look at her as she pulled me away. "Sorry," I muttered.

The petite woman with a pixie cut nodded and asked, "Is that one of your men?"

"I'm not sure. I couldn't tell. I was looking for PFC Newton."

"Then I'm afraid you're too late. I'm sorry." I followed her sad gaze and watched as the machines were being turned off and the doctor was documenting the time of death. Another nurse pulled a sheet over him, covering his face.

I immediately went to him and touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mike. Thank you for being a good friend. You were a great soldier." I stepped back and saluted him before turning on my heels and heading outside.

Not sure where I wanted to go at first, thanks to the blinding sun disorienting me, I soon felt the anger wash over me. Without realizing my feet were moving me, I found myself at the indoor shooting range. Since I didn't have a piece on me, I used one of their Berettas, put the eye and ear protection on, and desecrated the cardboard target forty yards away. I made it move back to the weapon's limited range while I reloaded and let loose again. After the thirty rounds were up, I stood there holding the gun as if it had an unlimited supply. Frustrated beyond measure, I dropped the handgun on the counter in front of me, placed my hands on the headphones, fell to my knees, and growled. The loud roars hurt my throat and chest, but I welcomed the pain.

I didn't remember anything after that, I realized as I woke up the next day. I was still dressed and wearing my boots. Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I stretched before getting up. As I was washing my hands in the bathroom, the air raid defense alarm went off. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since I had returned to base yesterday. Muttering to my stomach as I made my way to Command Central to figure out what the hell was going on, there was an explosion.

Screams, cries for help, and gunfire filled the air. Without thinking, I ran toward it. Troops were fleeing the mess hall. I could barely see the hole in the side of the building through the heavy black smoke. I grabbed the first injured person I came across and fled on foot to the hospital.

Somehow other injured had already shown up and the staff was doing the best they could. I gave them the one I had in my arms and took off again. I found a truck that I could load up with the injured on my way to the mess hall. The "jakes" had shown up and were fighting the flames as I carried out a rescue mission. When the truck was full of about twenty people, I drove it to the hospital. I let the hospital staff unload them and decide how to treat them. The doctors were thankful for my help, so that made me feel good, like I had made a difference.

Luckily, no more bombs struck the base that day. I'd like to think that due to our emergency response drills, only six troops died that day. The days following were somber. A service was held for those who died, including Newton. Within the following week, I requested and was granted immediate leave. The only condition was I had to stop by Walter Reed for a physical and mental exam.

Accompanying Newton's body to Dover AFB turned out to be my last official mission. After meeting his six-month old son and wife of two years, I made the decision to retire, pending my checkup. Mrs. Newton was touched as I tried to give her the last known picture of her husband. Crowley had taken it that day and had given it to me as a parting gift before I left Bagram. It was of Newton and me as we stood back from the convoy when I had observed a moment of silence for my brother. The last day Newton was alive. Since I was in the photo, she thought I should have it, to remember what a good friend her husband was to me. I agreed and she left to attend to her husband.

My trip to Bethesda was uneventful. As I figured, my physical was fine. They made me stay overnight for the mental evaluation since it was so extensive. They assured me it was routine, especially with to my impending retirement. If things went well, I would be granted retirement status immediately. That suited me just fine because I didn't want all the pomp and circumstance of a full-fledged retirement ceremony. We were at war, after all. There were more important things to attend to.

~~ Blood and Honor ~~

Two weeks later, I received a letter in the mail. I was staying with my parents in the Big Apple because I didn't own a home or rent an apartment. The two and a half weeks I had been back, I had been searching for both a place to call my own as well as a civilian job. When I opened the letter, I expected it to be about a job I had applied for, but I was mistaken. I had to read it three times by the mailbox in my bare feet before I walked inside the house. I read it several more times before calling my mother to let her know we would be busy the following day. At least Fort Hamilton wasn't far, in Brooklyn.

When I arrived that following evening at Fort Hamilton with my family, I could tell it would be a festive occasion as we entered the Community Club. Decorations were the typical red, white, and blue patriotic theme. It looked nice, and I figured it was decorated for events held during Fleet Week as well as whatever tonight's occasion was.

My parents, Bella, Nessie, and I mingled until the whole room was brought to attention as a microphone was tapped on stage. I still had no idea why I was invited, that is, until I saw Major General Volturi up on stage. My mother smiled and suggested we sit down. Somehow she seemed to know what was going on. Bella too.

After the presentation of colors, the host introduced himself as Colonel Garrett, the garrison's commander. He told a short story of how we had met before, but I didn't even recognize him because it had been so long ago. Then he introduced General Volturi.

The general had a slideshow prepared. Some of the pictures my mother had to have given him, because they were ones I had taken throughout my career. It was my attempt to show her where I was deployed. Others were from boot camp, award ceremonies, fellow soldiers with whom I had made friends along the way, the picture taken the day Mike died, and then the final ones were from the day Bagram was attacked. There were several of me as I tried to help save lives. Of course one of them made the cover of Time, Newsweek, Stripes, and the ArmyTimes, so the covers were included as well.

As soon as the lights came back on, General Volturi spoke. "Ladies and gentleman, the Silver Star is awarded to those who display 'gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States Armed Forces.' It is very prestigious as it is the third-highest combat valor military personal decoration that can be awarded. It is bestowed upon fewer than one in every two hundred and fifty veterans. Very much like the Silver Star, Lieutenant Colonel Emmett Dale McCarty Cullen is a rare soldier. He's been officially retired for less than three weeks, and I miss him already." Laughter spread throughout the ballroom. "Seriously though, he always went with his gut instinct, and it seemed he always had a guardian angel watching over him. He had great ideas that I sometimes got to implement, while, sadly, others were flat-out refused by those above me. It was a pleasure to have you under my command, Colonel. You made my job easy. Are you sure you don't want to come back?"

I shook my head as laughter filled the air. He then motioned for me to approach the stage. If this had been a regular ceremony, I would've been up there already. I shook my head as my feet carried my shocked body and mind up the steps to stand beside my former C.O. Specialist Cheney came out from behind the curtain to present my award to the general. We nodded for a moment, before he stood beside the general. Although I wanted to give him a bear hug, I knew it would mess with the formality of the ceremony. General Volturi teased me about accidentally poking my chest before he got the Silver Star pinned to my dress uniform.

I looked down at it in amazement, followed by pride in the twenty years of service shown by the rest of my ribbons. I had several, including the Army Commendation Medal and the Afghanistan Campaign Medal. The general shook my hand and had me look to the camera. After a few minutes, Cheney moved to my other side. We shook hands, causing more pictures to be taken. I couldn't resist any longer. I tightly wrapped my arms around him and lifted him up about a foot high in a massive bear hug.

Laughter erupted throughout the room before another familiar voice shouted out, "All right, damn it! My turn!"

Suddenly Specialist Crowley handed his camera to someone and jumped up on stage. I set Cheney down, and after I shook hands with Crowley, I repeated the gesture as flashes from cameras blinded me again.

The crowd was on its feet as the four of us posed for a group picture, my mother fighting for front and center to get the best shot. I couldn't help but laugh at her antics, yet I was so thankful to have a mother like her.

"This concludes our surprise ceremony for Colonel Cullen. Thank you for coming and please travel safely," Colonel Garrett cheerfully announced.

More pictures were taken: Garrett and me, my family and me, and more. After catching up with the guys for a while, the ballroom was empty except for the guys. Garrett took my family on a tour of the building to buy me some time to spend with my friends. Without warning, Crowley smacked my chest in order to get my attention.

A gorgeous blonde in semi-formal dress entered the ballroom, full of confidence in her stride, making a beeline toward me. My palms started to sweat the closer she got. When she stopped about a foot in front of me, I noticed her luscious ruby red lips moving, but I didn't hear anything she said. I got smacked in the arm by one of the guys, and they laughed at me. She cleared her throat, demanding my attention. I licked my lips and attempted to apologize, but she shoved a large manila envelope into my chest.

"See you at work on Monday," she said and then turned on her heels and left the way she came.

"Wait! What?"

She waved, keeping her fine, swaying backside to me. "It's all in there."

I quickly unrolled the ribbon that held the folder closed and dove into the paperwork. It looked like I had a job at the Pentagon. Crowley and Cheney helped me sort through the pages, finding a recommendation letter from Major General Volturi. Also included was a list and photos of who I would be working closely with.

"There she is! She's a secretary."

"Let me see that, Cheney." He pointed to Administrative Support Specialist Rosalie Hale, DOD Civilian. "God, she's beautiful."

"Glad you're finally gonna settle down, Colonel, " Crowley teased.

"I bet you show up on time Monday morning!" Cheney joked.

We laughed hard and loud, and it felt so good. I had a good feeling about my new job as well. I was fortunate to close a chapter on my active military service and begin a new civilian career.

"Thanks, guys," I said to my friends, and I meant it with every fiber of my being.

My father peeked in the door then, so I took that as my cue to leave. I shook hands with the guys again, the three of us vowing to stay in touch.

"When you get back to the desert, be sure to bag the fucker, will ya?" They knew I was referring to bin Laden.

"Sir, yes, Sir," they said in unison.

With one final salute, we said goodbye.

A/N: Thank you to NinaQ, StoryPainter, and Squeaky Zorro from Project Team Beta for their edits.


End file.
